Alias, Season Five
by passportone
Summary: One year later, an update on my version of the fifth season of Alias. No babies, No Sloane yet, no Nadia. Nothing is the same from the car crash on. Vaughn is a bad guy, Sydney is a prisoner, and everyone else is racing to find out where she's been taken.
1. Chapter 1

  
These are the first three chapters in what will eventually be a full-length fic. I have ten written, but I'll be posting them bit-by-bit to allow myself time to catch up in the writing. Also, it's my first fic, so be nice! 

Disclaimer: I OWN ALIAS AND EVERYTHING ABOUT IT! Oh… no wait, that's untrue. I own nothing but the computer this was written on. I particularly don't own the idea of them bringing a baby into the show… _sigh…_ I find that unfortunate. 

**Notes: In this story, there is no Nadia. I just don't have the energy for two Bristow girls right now; spies are so demanding of their own storylines!**

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Chapter One 

_My name is not Michael Vaughn._

Sydney groaned, her eyes closed tight, her head pounding. She struggled to open her eyes, but found she could not. Not blind- her eyes were covered. She was blindfolded. She wiggled her fingers, feeling the rope that bound them to the chair on which she was sitting. Struggling to move her feet, she found them bound as well. Well, at least this was a familiar position.

The last thing she remembered was being in a car with her boyfriend, Michael Vaughn. Smiles, laughter… they were engaged; she was going to marry the man she loved, the man who loved her more than anything else in this world.

_My name is not Michael Vaughn._

Why did this one line keep running through her head? Of course it wasn't real, it was a fragment from some disturbed dream she had been having after she passed out. Passed out? She felt like she had been hit by an anvil, like the roadrunner from those old Bugs Bunny cartoons. Hit…

Something clicked in her memory, but Sydney deliberately ignored it, feeling with all of her senses that someone was nearby. She relaxed her body as much as possible, dropping her head to her shoulder, hoping to appear unconscious. Whoever her abductors were, they could not know she was awake until she was ready for them—until this damn headache dissipated. Steps echoed on concrete a short distance away.

"It's like you dropped a present on my front step. Though I believe a bow would have been a wonderful finishing touch." A British accent—a familiar voice. Sark. "Regardless, I have so many plans for our dear Sydney. She will be the star in our new project, I think. I just cannot imagine how you managed to get her here."

A voice mumbled back, too distant even for Sydney's sharp hearing.

"Yes," came Sark's reply. "I do believe torture _will_ be necessary. After all, we wouldn't want our prisoner growing too… soft while she is here." All this time his voice had been growing steadily nearer, stopping directly above Sydney. She struggled not to spit up at his face. She let her breath out slowly, relying on her steady breathing not to betray her racing heart.

She felt Sark's breath on her face, knowing he was only inches from her. She craved a fight, but she was not ready, mentally or physically.

"I believe our prisoner here is faking," Sark drawled slowly. "I think she's awake and gearing to try and kick me in the balls."

Sydney kept her head tilted. _Keep breathing. Just keep breathing. If they keep talking, you will find out more about this place… where am I, how did I get here? Is Vaughn okay; was there some kind of accident?_ She felt the same way she had upon waking up in Tokyo two years back. Dazed and confused, with no sense of how much time had lapsed or what had happened to her.

"Let's not pretend we haven't all been tempted." Another voice responded to Sark dryly. Sydney struggled not to cry out. She would know that voice anywhere. It was the voice that had lulled her to sleep when she was crying, the weight of the world on her shoulders. It was the voice that had had told her everything would be okay, countless times. It was the voice that had said _I love you._ It was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. _Vaughn_.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through her body, Sydney could not have moved to save her life. She was frozen to the chair.

"She's not awake," Vaughn continued, his voice easy. _Not Vaughn, this isn't Vaughn, there's some mistake._ "Look at her, so still. If she could hear my voice, she would react. After all, I am supposed to be her true love." He chuckled at this, a cold sound that sent chills up Sydney's spine.

"Maybe so," came Sark's reply. Sydney heard him get up from beside her and turn away as he spoke. "But it's not like you are the first to betray her." His hand reached behind her, touching the back of her head. She bit back a scream.

"What are you doing?" Vaughn asked sharply. _NOT Vaughn. This is some sick joke._

"Why keep her blindfolded? She has been transported, she will have no idea where we've brought her when she awakens."

"Fine. But I don't want her to know I'm here… not yet. Let her believe I died in that car accident." As Sark's hands pulled the blindfold away, a rush of memories flooded back to Sydney. Driving down the highway. Laughter, smiles, two people in love. Then…_ It's no accident that I was the one you came to when you walked in the CIA with your story about SD-6… For starters, my name isn't Michael Vaughn. _A split second later, a car slammed into the side of the car. That was the last thing Sydney remembered.

"What about him?" Came Sark's voice.

"Leave him. Let her see him when she wakes up. Let her lose all hope."

_Vaughn isn't… Vaughn_? _Impossible!_

"Fine. Play it how you want. This is your op." The voices echoed as the two men walked away, and Sydney finally trusted herself to open her eyes. But first she took a deep breath and forced all thoughts of Vaughn and betrayal from her mind. Somehow, she had to believe, he was not betraying her—he was undercover, on a mission to uncover secrets from Sark. He would come to her and tell her the truth when he could. Even so, his last words to her before the accident echoed through her mind.

She lifted her head slowly, painfully, and looked around. She was in a large, nearly empty room. The walls were gray and the lighting dim. A table holding a polygraph machine and several vials of liquid stood in front of her.

As Sydney continued to scan the room, she noticed a body slumped over in the opposite corner from her. She squinted at it, her vision dancing as she struggled to make him out. But even through blurred eyes, she didn't need to struggle hard to make out the form of her best friend.

_Will Tippin_.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

Sydney was crying silently, her tears making clear rivers on her dirty cheeks. Was Will breathing? _Oh God, let him be alive. Because if Will is dead, and Vaughn is a bad guy, then I have failed as a friend and as a human being and I might as well just die in this room right now. _

"Will!" Sydney's voice came out little more than a croak, and she couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since she had last used it. "_Will!_ Answer me, please answer me!" The body across the room remained still. Sydney couldn't help but notice that one of his legs was bent at an unnatural angle.

_I have to get to him. I have to get over there._

Sydney took another quick look around, seeing nothing that would help her in this mission. Okay. So she was on her own. Leaning forward, Sydney managed to bend forward and prop herself on her feet. After a practice hop, she found herself steady enough to move slowly to the table. Polygraph machine… vials of liquid… _there has to be something here I can use to free myself. Sark always manages to screw something up. And besides… Vaughn doesn't really want to keep me prisoner. He must have left something to help me get free…_Sydney believed this. She had to believe it.

But there was nothing on the table. Her eyes searched the room, falling finally on a point right next to the metal door—the only door—leading out of the room.A piece of metal had bent away from the poorly built frame and was sticking crookedly out five inches. Sydney hopped slowly toward the door, willing herself not to fall over. If she fell, there would be no way to get back up.

When she was close enough, Sydney turned and slipped the ropes binding her hands over the piece of metal._ This might just work_. Sydney rubbed the rope across the sharp metal and found her hands were free in only a few minutes. She hurriedly bent to untie her feet and rushed across the room to her best friend.

Will was supposed to be hidden away in the Witness Protection Program, safe from bad guys like Sark. How had he become mixed up in her life again? _Because Will is the eternal journalist_, Sydney thought sadly, _he probably couldn't help himself… maybe it was just one odd phone call; a single search of a single database that led them straight to him. And because… eventually anyone involved with me is punished._

As she knelt at his side, Sydney saw his face had been badly cut several times. The wounds were partially healed—Will had been here awhile. And had she? Had he been watching over her day after day, willing her to wake up and be alright? She felt for a pulse and found it, weak, but there. She let out a single strangled cry of relief before taking his face in her hands.

"Will, please… you have to wake up…"

"He can't hear you," came a crackling voice from above. Sark's voice, coming from a speaker somewhere on the roof. _Of course he planted a camera, _Sydney thought bitterly, _this wouldn't be as much fun for him if he couldn't watch._

"What did you do to him?" She asked, her voice deadly calm.

"Let's just say he's deep asleep, and will be unless I give him the right medicine to wake up." There was a slight pause. "Oh, Sydney, how I've missed you! You and I have such fun together!"

"Then why don't you come down here we'll celebrate?" Sydney asked sweetly, already reveling in how good it would feel to kick his ass.

"I'm not too much of a man to know that you're too much of a woman for me," came Sark's reply. Sydney could hear the humour in his voice. "I assume you heard the lovely Vaughn down there with me while you were pretending to be unconscious. Mmm. I also assume you are coming up with all sorts of lovely excuses for what you have heard. '_My darlingest cupcake would never betray me. It's simply an alias, another undercover adventure for loverboy.'_ Yes, Sydney… go and make all the excuses you want, because it will only be that much more wonderful when you realize what has really happened. That this is simply another incident of your misplaced trust."

Sydney could do nothing but glare up at the ceiling. _I don't **want** to make excuses you asshole… I have to make excuses, because otherwise I will go insane in this room, thinking that Vaughn could have possibly turned on me. And if that happens, Will and I will both die here._

But nothing could stop that line from running through her head one more time. _My name is not Michael Vaughn. _But the look in his eyes when he had made that declaration… it was not one of hate, or betrayal, or anger. It was merely regret and honesty.

Sydney turned away from the ceiling and looked back down at Will. She sighed, believing that Sark was telling the truth—Will would not wake up until Sark wanted him to wake up. What drug they had given him, she didn't know. It only mattered that he was alive. She laid her head down upon his knee and closed her eyes, knowing she was not strong enough to break them out. Not yet.

-----

She opened her eyes to the sounds of quiet footsteps entering the room. She sprang into a sitting position, crying out as a chain around her leg held her close to the wall. _Chained to the wall… when did this happen? How could I not have woken up?_ She tore her attention away from the anchor and looked up into Vaughn's handsome face. He stepped back as Sydney tried to rush forward. The chain held her back.

"Vaughn! Oh thank God! Why are we here… why are you with Sark?" Sydney wasn't ashamed to find she was weeping. She willed Vaughn to take her in his arms and tell her it was all a big mistake, she had been compromised, but he would get them out of here.

Vaughn smiled joylessly down at her. "Hi honey. You know, there's something about the way you look… did you get a haircut? No? I don't know, maybe all that dirt just really becomes you."

She looked at him, horrified. _This is not Michael Vaughn. He's been cloned… like Francie, Vaughn has been cloned. That means the real Vaughn… he must be tied up somewhere. Or… _Sydney couldn't bring herself to finish that thought. He couldn't be dead.

"You're not my Vaughn." She answered coldly, positive she was looking into the eyes not of her true love, but of a copy, a Vaughn duplicate.

"No, but then, I never was. Oh sure, I'll admit that it wasn't difficult sleeping with you every night—I even enjoyed that part—but the cuddling after… I've never met a woman who needs so much goddamn attention." His smile was like ice.

"Where is he? Where is my boyfriend? _What have you done with Michael Vaughn?_"

He chucked, clearly elated by this demand. "Syd, you just don't get it. It's not that I took Michael Vaughn's body and his life. I'm not a double. _There never was a Vaughn._ Vaughn was a fake. Well, that's not entirely true… there was a Michael Vaughn. His father Bill died a CIA hero when he was just a young boy. It wasn't hard to have people believe that Bill Vaughn's son would also make an excellent agent. We just had to make sure they never found out that little Mikey actually drowned in a river when he was ten. His mother was distraught, of course… she had to be convinced to take another boy in and make believe the boy was her son. But she came around. Sometimes it just takes tough love." His eyes stared coldly down at the woman who loved him, who had believed him in love with her.

"No, Vaughn…" Sydney's voice came out a hoarse whisper. "No! You're lying. No double agent could fake the love that I saw in Michael Vaughn's eyes! No double agent would have saved my life as many times as Vaughn has!"

"You don't get it, Sydney," Vaughn said simply. "That was my mission. You were my mission. I started to tell you in the car that it was no mistake I was the one you spoke to on the day you walked into the CIA. My mission was to keep you alive."

Sydney was confused. Confused and distraught, and the world was crumbling around her. "You were placed in the CIA to save my life. So you're… a good guy?"

Vaughn chuckled again. "Syd, you make me laugh. You really do. Sometimes I like to think of you as a pet. A grasshopper I keep in a jar, feeding it, playing with it… waiting for the day it starts to bore me so I can pull its legs off." He sighed heavily and crouched to her level, just out of her reach. "No Syd, I'm no good guy. My mission was to meet you, help you, and keep you alive… _until we were ready for you._ The most convenient way to do all that was to have you fall in love with me. It was all planned out."

"But…" Sydney didn't even know what to ask. She was reeling, but not ready to accept that this man was her Vaughn. "When the Covenant took me… and you married Lauren…"

"Oh, yes… well, that was tough spot for us. We had a close association with the Covenant. We figured we'd let them have their way with you, and they promised they'd give you back eventually. Lauren was just something to pass the time. I admit she became more complicated than we imagined. Sark withheld certain truths about that bitch."

"No." Sydney declared. "No! I told Vaughn once that I would never give up on him, and I am not giving up on him now! Whether you're a clone or whether my boyfriend is trapped down in you somewhere, I will not give up!" She was crying again, but she couldn't stop it this time. Something deep down inside of her had broken, and she didn't know how to fix it. This was all too surreal.

"I can't imagine what I did to inspire such loyalty. I should have my Oscar by now," Vaughn said cheerily.

"Who is 'we'?" Sydney asked quietly, from behind her tears.

"What?"

"You keep saying 'we'. Who do you work for?"

"Ah. I'm afraid that, my dear, is a story for another day. But we have so many plans for you. Your time has finally come. And thank God, I can finally give up this stupid character. 'I'm Michael Vaughn, Knight in Shining Armour and Saviour Extraordinaire.' God, I was so sick of being that man. Sensitive, caring, stoic… everything a woman could want in a man, right Syd?" He finished with a teasing tone, his eyes slipping past her to Will's silent figure. They narrowed as he glanced back at Sydney.

"You know, for a woman supposedly so in love, you sure did love him a lot, too. I admit, that day you told me you slept with him? I was a bit jealous. My grasshopper had escaped the can and hopped away. But I captured you again, didn't I, Syd? Still, I regret having to pull him back into this. I thought I was rid of the little bastard for good."

Sydney stared up him hatefully.

"You love me. Stop this act."

"Oh no, Sydney. I have stopped the act. You just need to catch up to the script." Without warning, his hand snapped out and he hit her across the face, hard. "This is Boy Scout, signing off." Vaughn stood up and walked out of the room, leaving a collapsed Sydney to look after him, betrayed and alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three 

Vaughn walked confidently out of the room and closed the door behind him. It was only when he was well out of range of that awful room that he allowed himself a small cry of despair. He leaned weakly against the corridor wall. He had just destroyed the woman he loved more than life itself. He had just destroyed the illusion he had pretended for so long was real, the life he had prayed so desperately could be his.

But it wasn't, and he had to come to terms with that fact. The Quantum Project, a training program identical to Project Christmas, had placed him in Michael Vaughn's life at the young age of twelve. He had remembered nothing of his time before becoming Michael Vaughn, but he had always known that he was not Michael Vaughn. His brainwashers had given him crude memories from the real Michael Vaughn, but not enough that he could truly believe them. Throughout most of his youth, he pretended that there was nothing different about him; he ignored his memory loss and he ignored the circumstances placing him with the Vaughn family. He ignored the look of hollow sorrow on "his" mother's face every time she looked at him. He came to love playing hockey, and found he adored the man called William Vaughn who had died for his country. He pretended the life was his.

When he turned 18, he had been abducted and whisked away to a building far on the outskirts on Los Angeles. It was there that he was given back some of himself—his real self. His name had originally been Connor Dalloway, and he was an American raised in an orphanage in Washington. When he was six, he was adopted by a loving couple from California, Mary and Philip Smith. But as often happened in Connor Dalloway's life, things weren't as they seemed. Mr. and Mrs. Smith were just two agents in a sprawling criminal organization spread across the country. Little Connor had no idea how many times he was passed around from city to city, to an endless sea of "foster parents". What he did know was that his final destination was a little Californian village, the Meadows. He was nine years old. At the Meadows, Connor was brainwashed to believe he must take Michael Vaughn's place in life. He was also trained to kill. He was drilled on endless facts about the Bristow family, Jack and Laura (who, he was told, was really Irena Derevko: Bill Vaughn's killer) and their little girl Sydney.

Sydney was only seven when Connor first heard her name and saw her picture, but what he didn't tell his handlers- what he knew, even at such a young age, that he could not reveal- was the tenderness he felt any time he looked at the picture of the little girl whose smile lit up her eyes and showed deep dimples.

"You are to find this woman, to make her fall in love with you. That is your destiny, Michael Vaughn."

"_I'm Connor Dalloway."_

"_You will never be Connor again. You are Michael Vaughn, you are the son of an American hero. All you want in life is to grow up and be like your father. All you want is to meet a woman named Sydney Bristow and keep her safe, keep her alive… and then deliver her to us when we ask."_

He was hypnotized and told he would not remember any of this. Only that he was Michael Vaughn and his dream was to join the CIA. The rest would come later.

So young Michael Vaughn grew up in a household with a mother who was always somewhat afraid of him- though she could never quite place why, for she never knew that her true son died had died in a river when he was only ten (that he was, in truth, pushed into the river and held down until he ceased breathing) and replaced by a look-alike- and with a feeling that there was something inherently _wrong _with his whole life.

So when he was taken to the warehouse and the truth was finally revealed… when he finally remembered… he was almost relieved. The part of him that had always insisted he was not Michael Vaughn was right, and therefore, he was not crazy.

He also remembered Sydney Bristow and his childhood crush on the girl he had never met. The girl who was supposedly destined to fall in love with him (_the girl he quite possibly had already fallen in love with_); the girl he would meet in the CIA a decade later.

He remembered very little of the weeks he spent in the warehouse when he was 18, but assumed it had been more directions, more training, more brainwashing drilled to his subconscious. He left feeling used, but unable to do anything but follow the path they had laid out for him. He went to college and was taken in by the CIA after he graduated. Bill Vaughn's old buddies made sure his son's dream came true. In truth, they were all surprised at how natural he was as an agent, and he rose quickly within the department.

Everything he had done led up to meeting Sydney Bristow the day she walked into CIA headquarters.

As much as he had been unable to escape the destiny that had been brainwashed into him, before he actually met Sydney, Vaughn had managed to become completely disinterested on the whole subject of Sydney Bristow. He did not want to be interested. Her father, Jack, worked for the CIA as a double agent, but Vaughn avoided making any contact with him. He did not look at Sydney's file, and pretended he had no interest. He had a girlfriend, played pick-up hockey, had a dog and went drinking with friends. His life was as normal as possible.

That normalcy came crashing down around him when he met Sydney Bristow. His training was meant to leave him detached from her; he was only to protect her and deliver when the time came. But from the very first moment, his heart had gone out to the girl with the pink hair who walked into his office. To the beautiful woman who had stolen his heart almost two decades back.

He forgot his mission, he forgot that he was not technically Michael Vaughn, and he became the person whose life they had stolen and given to him. And in doing all this, he did exactly what they had wanted in the first place—guarded Sydney with his life.

When her house had burned down, Michael Vaughn really thought he had lost the only woman who had ever truly mattered to him. He had lied to Sydney when he told her they had known she was alive. His handlers had come back after her funeral and he was told he had failed his mission. They were angry. Still, he was to remain Michael Vaughn and take Lauren as his wife—his brainwashers had a special interest in her for reasons Vaughn did not know. He went through the motions of life; sometimes he even thought he might love Lauren.

So when Sydney came back into his life, Vaughn realized something had to change. He and Sydney could not be pawns in other peoples' plans any longer. He would keep his eyes open, protect Sydney, and when the time came… he would destroy the people that had done this to him; the people who wanted to hurt Sydney. Even if it meant hurting Sydney at the same time. Even if it meant making her believe that he despised her, when all he wanted to do was throw his arms around her and never leave.

One thing was for sure—his handlers had never even entertained the possibility that something had gone wrong in his brainwashing. That he had fallen in love with the one person he had been programmed to help destroy.

Sometimes he regretted never telling her the full truth. But his denial had held him back for so long, and now it was too late. They were stuck in this building with Sark watching every move they made.

Vaughn took a deep breath and pulled himself to his full height. Lying to Sydney, saying those awful things to her… seeing the look of utter betrayal in her eyes… that had quite possibly been the worst moment of his life. But he knew it was not over yet—Sydney had not yet given up hope for him, and he both loved and hated her for that. Though it showed her faith in him, he knew it would only mean more pain for them both.

He knew he would have to take away every ounce of her faith in him in order to save her life. And he also knew that doing that would, in many ways, destroy them both. He had hoped that one visit would be enough to break her faith—but somehow he would have to find the strength to do worse.

After another deep breath and a swipe at his eyes to be sure no tears betrayed him, Vaughn pulled open a door further down the hallway. He plastered a grin on his face as he greeted Sark, who had been watching from the control room. He looked up, impressed.

"Man, that was harsh. I didn't know you had it in you."

"What can I say?" Vaughn replied easily. "I wasted the best years of my life on that bitch."


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the great reviews! I have to admit, it's _fun _writing Vaughn evil. I feel like his storyline has been a little lacking since season three, so I'm trying to make up for it. I won't give anything away, but I'm a bit scared for Syd and Vaughn. They definitely have some hard times ahead in this story.

Also, thanks for the comments about Sark's "un-britishness". It's nice to know these things, because of course, he always sounds British in my own head-- but what do I know about these things? Anyway, I've re-written bits of his dialogue in the next chapters (resisting the urge to add in "tea and crumpets" and "bollocks" and the like). Let me know if its more successful.

Chapter Four 

Sydney stared at the door for a long while after Not Vaughn had left the room. Her cheek throbbed where he had hit her and her mind worked furiously trying to make excuses for what he had just said and done to her.

_Sark was watching… he had to make it realistic… for some reason, he has to pretend… _Sydney could almost believe that was the truth—almost—but why hadn't there been some look, some sign of reassurance on his part that it was all an act? _It's a test; some kind of test the CIA is putting on to test my strength. _This one was even more unrealistic: first, Vaughn would never go along with it and second, the CIA would have no reason to administer it. _Okay… so he's working for the bad guys; maybe he really is. _But this was impossible to believe.

Sydney glanced back down at poor Will, forcing her thoughts away from Michael Vaughn and who he was or was not. Why had they brought her friend back into this? To break her, to make her give into whatever it was they wanted?

Well, that was one thing she intended to find out right away.

"Sark. Get Will out of here and I'll tell you whatever it is you want to know. I'll do whatever you want me to do. _Just wake him up and let him go._"

When there was no immediate answer, Sydney's mind turned to the chain around her ankle. She had to find a way out.

The door suddenly slammed open and Sark strutted into the room, a cheery grin on his face.

"Congratulations Sydney. You get straight to the point, don't you? But for your information, we did not bring Will back. He is convenient, I'll admit, but he came back of his own accord." As Sark spoke, he moved to the table and started to study the vials that had been placed upon it. "Tippin never could stop his investigations you see, and he was eventually led to the truth about Michael Vaughn. See, Sydney, the CIA knew about Vaughn. That the real Vaughn had died tragically in his youth and another boy was placed in his life. Oh yes Sydney… even your father _knew_."

Something in his voice caught Sydney off guard. He wasn't trying to provoke her anger. He was simply telling her the truth. Had Sydney not already been on the ground, she knew her knees would have given way. _Vaughn really isn't Vaughn. And Dad knew the whole time._ Was all of this even possible, or was she trapped in some warped nightmare?

"Vaughn- Connor Dalloway was his name in a previous lifetime- was trained by a group called Ground Six. Obviously not sanctioned by the government, Ground Six has minimal agents and only one goal. One they have been preparing for your whole life, Agent Bristow. I've not been made privy to their plans for you- I'm nothing but a go-between, you see- but as usual, I gather it is something quite catastrophic and something that will effect the entire world. Nothing new there, eh Syd?

"There was no one reason Vaughn was picked by Ground Six. He was abandoned by his parents; left in an orphanage by parents who were junkies. There was no one to miss him. That, and he fit a profile—the same excuse you were initially given for your recruitment, I believe. He was tossed around awhile, trained and finally placed as William Vaughn's son. Offspring of an American Hero. Who better to see to Sydney Bristow's safety until they were ready for her?"

Sark paused here and seemed to find a vial that particularly interested him.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Sydney asked in a low voice when it became clear that Sark was not going to continue his monologue.

Sark shrugged. "Why not tell you? Why not impart what I have learned, for this is one-time gig for me. I'm here to tell you some truths, get you to tell me others, and eventually hand you off to Vaughn and his pals. I won't pretend I care what they do with you, but I also won't pretend to care whether or not they succeed. Off the record, my bets would be on you winning this round. I've witnessed you get out of some pretty tight spots before."

Sydney took a deep breath, mentally visualizing Sark's head exploding. _No… that would not be nearly as fulfilling as getting to kick his ass myself._

"What are you going to do with Will?" She finally asked, though she had a thousand other questions swimming through her head.

"Well, I said that his presence was not our plan, and that's true… however, I may take you up on your offer. I'll wake Will up, and you will give me what I want." Sark finally turned back to Sydney, meeting her gaze evenly.

"Wake him up and let him go." Sydney answered, not blinking.

"I don't see that possibility just yet," Sark said. "I let him go, and he runs straight to Daddy Jack and the gang, and where exactly does that leave me? Buggered, I'd say."

"My father must already have some idea of what has happened. And you said yourself the CIA knows about Vaughn. So as long as you keep Will from knowing where we are, what harm can he possibly do?" Sydney knew she practically begging, but at the moment she didn't see any other option. She had to get Will out of here. She couldn't let them use him against her.

"And if we did so, exactly what guarantee would we have that you would remain faithful to your word?"

"What other options would I have? I'm chained to a wall. Look; let Will go and I'll cooperate. Keep him here and I'll kill myself before I let this lunatic organization get their hands on me."

Sark looked at her thoughtfully for a long minute, and finally nodded.

"Frankly, I didn't know what to do with him anyway." He picked up one of the small vials and pulled a needle from one of his pockets.

"Do you always keep needles in your pockets?" Sydney asked wryly.

"You never know when you'll need a quick hit, do you?" Sark replied, jamming the needle into the vial and filling its plastic tube. He walked close to Sydney and looked down at her warningly. "Don't bite."

"I wouldn't risk getting a disease," Sydney shot back. Sark laughed and knelt beside Will. Sydney thought briefly about snapping his neck right there, but realized that would only leave her alone with her leg chained to the wall. Not a brilliant idea.

Will started groaning almost immediately after Sark had given him the antidote. "Syd?" He muttered, reaching out to her.

"Hey… hey Will, I'm here," she replied softly. "You stupid, stupid man. What did you get yourself into this time?"

"I just… I was worried and… Syd!" He shot up suddenly, staring at her full in the face.

"Will? What is it?" She asked, alarmed.

"It's Michael Vaughn, Sydney. He's betrayed you, he's not really who he says he is."

Sydney smiled softly, sadly. "I know Will… I know…"

"I'm so sorry. I just… I had to make sure you knew. That bastard," he finished darkly. Sydney was close to crying again.

"Thank you," she said.

"Okay, my lovelies, that's enough reminiscing," Sark broke in. "Mr. Tippin, we have quite a long journey home ahead of us, so let's go."

"What? No. Not without Sydney," he tried to break free as Sark hauled him to his feet, but he was weak. Several days as a prisoner had left him barely able to stand. "Sydney?"

"It's okay, Will… I'm just going to stay here a little while longer, okay? Sark will get you back to L.A. Talk to my dad. Hey, will you check on my house? There's a money jar beside the fridge… make sure I haven't been robbed! I love you!" She called this last part out to him as Sark dragged him through the door. She couldn't see the look of confusion on Will's face, but she hoped he would remember her request when he talked to her father. It might be her only chance.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks again for the reviews—I loveto hear what everyone thinks, and I especially love that it's given me a lead on some other great fics that you guys have written. Man, I love the angsty-ness! 

Now, straight to the story…

* * *

**Chapter Five (Los Angeles) **

Jack Bristow hadn't slept in seven days, twelve hours and fifty-two minutes—precisely as long as he had known Sydney and Vaughn were missing, leaving behind only a tangled wreck of a car. This was worse by far than when Sydney had been taken by the Covenant. At least that had not been his fault.

But this… he had known exactly what Vaughn was and had chosen to believe that he would do the right thing. That he really did love Sydney and was planning to tell her the truth and let her make up her mind about him. He had seen the love reflected in Vaughn's eyes when he looked at Jack's daughter… hadn't he? _Or am I still as much of a damned fool as I was when I married Irena?_

Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was at CIA Headquarters- more home to him than his own apartment- and had been for the last week. The whole team had been sifting through files, researching endless leads, trying to figure out where Vaughn could have taken Sydney.

"Uh… Mr. Bristow?" Marshall was looking expectantly at Jack, flustered—not a new look for him when he was confronted with communicating anything to Jack Bristow. In truth, he was terrified of the man. But Jack did wear nice ties.

"Yes Marshall." Jack didn't look up.

"Well… it's just that we might have a lead. A real lead this time, not like the last time where I thought it was a good lead but then it just turned out to be nothing at all and I was all 'hey I really think this is it guys' until we found out it wasn't. Hey, you know, I really thought that one was going to pan out, but I mean if you're really calling the CIA with information on a lead then you probably aren't going to ask as a bottle of wine in a brown paper bag as payment, 'cause I mean-"

"Marshall!" Jack cut him off sharply, and Marshall winced, sucking back a couple of deep breaths. There was a reason he was a tech guy and not a business-presentation-guy.

"Uh, right, sorry Jack. There's been a call from someone claiming to be Sark. Says he has Will Tippin and is ready to deliver him to us."

"Tippin?" This news finally made Jack look up.

"Yah… he was on the phone? With Agent Weiss?" Marshall backed away when he saw Jack's eyes were flashing. That was always a bad sign with Jack.

Jack walked briskly across the floor where Weiss was standing with Director Chase.

"Where's Sark?"

Director Chase sighed. "He claims that he's dropped Tippin off in the warehouse district on the east end. Says Tippin's been let go in exchange for Sydney, something he felt to be a very good deal."

"I knew that little snake would be involved in this," Jack hissed. He stared evenly at Director Chase. "I'm going."

She smiled tiredly. "I wouldn't try to stop you. Just make sure you go expecting a trap."

------

Jack, Weiss and three other agents drove separately to the address that Sark had provided. Weiss and Jack exited their cars with their guns drawn, the other three trailing loosely behind them.

"Hey Jack?" Weiss whispered hesitantly as they paused by the metal door.

"What?" Jack demanded impatiently.

"You don't really think Mike could be a bad guy, do you? I mean, he's got to be pretending… to save Syd…"

Jack fixed him with a withering stare. "Why don't we talk about this later?"

"Oh. Yeah, right. Yeah. Maybe we could have drinks sometime or something…" He trailed off as Jack opened the door, flooding the empty warehouse with sunlight.

It was easy to spot Will, because he was the sole occupant of the enormous room. The poor, battered blond man was tied up with rope and gagged, lying in the far corner of the room. He made a low sound in his throat as soon as he saw the two men.

Weiss and Jack rushed over to him, quickly untying the ropes and pulling his gag out.

"Sydney…" He said weakly.

"Yes," relied Jack, urgently. "Where is she?"

"She… and Vaughn's… he's not good."

"We know. Will, please, where is Sydney? Is she okay?"

"Damnit," Will mumbled, "I was supposed to be… saving her life for once… Why did everyone know before me?… some journalist…" With this, he passed out.

------

Will woke up 18 hours later to find Jack staring down at him. He was in a hospital room.

"Oh good. You're awake."

"He-eyy… Mr. Bristow, great to see you old buddy. Looking fit, you know?" Will still felt horrible, but he couldn't give up the chance to tease Sydney's humourless father a bit. Besides, he had a soft spot for the man. He had saved Will's life on at least one occasion. He tended to like people who saved his life.

"Thank you," Jack replied uncomfortably. "Listen Will, I know this has been difficult for you, and we'll want your full story… but right now, do you have any idea at all where Sydney might be?"

Will shook his head. "After they found out I was digging around in Vaughn's background, they kidnapped me, beat me up, and that's all I remember until I woke up in a little concrete room with Sydney and Sark." He saw Jack's concerned look and immediately added, "She was fine. Syd was okay. I mean, she had a couple of bruises, but otherwise she was fine. I got the impression she had bought my way out of that dungeon. I didn't want to leave her there… but I couldn't make my legs work… and she just looked after me, smiling, happy that I was okay." Will didn't even try to conceal his tears from the older man.

"Sark dragged me away, and Sydney just told me she'd be there a little longer. That I should go back to L.A. and tell you everything." He looked sheepish. "Maybe she thought I knew more than I did."

Jack nodded and sighed. "There was nothing else? No sign of where you were? Nothing she said?"

Will looked at him blankly.

"Nothing."

Jack nodded again and stood up to leave the room. "I'll let you get your rest." He was halfway through the door when Will called out after him.

"Mr. Bristow? She did say something kind of strange…"

-------

Jack found what Sydney had hoped they would find almost immediately. There was no change jar beside the fridge, as Jack had expected. Instead, there was only one single sheet of paper with a single word scrawled in Sydney's handwriting.

Quito. A question mark had been tagged onto the end of the word and underlined three times.

Jack didn't know how Sydney could possibly foreseen this, but she had been taken to Ecuador.


	6. Chapter 6

  
**Chapter Six**

Sydney looked up, deadly calm, as Vaughn entered the room.

"I'm surprised you allowed Sark to free Will."

Vaughn shrugged, staying far away from Sydney. The look in her eyes made him think she could break the chain around her ankle if she willed it.

"Will was of no value to us. He served the only purpose he had. Besides, Sark is in charge of this leg of the mission. It was his call."

"Please. I don't believe that for a second. This is your mission. Has been your whole life, apparently." Sydney leaned back against the wall, trying to give the impression that she was in charge of herself and of the situation. That she wasn't ripped up inside and panicking.

"I told you. Will had no value to me."

Sydney sat forward again, suddenly eager to ask him the question that had been burning in her mind for several hours.

"Is Sark still watching us?" She began cautiously.

"No." Vaughn replied without emotion. "He's gone to see Will back to L.A." He didn't tell her that regardless of Sark's absence, their conversation was still being recorded. The Group wanted proof of his loyalty.

"So it's just you and me here."

"Yes."

"Then why don't you tell me the _truth _Vaughn? Stop this bullshit. I don't know what happened to you, or why you don't think you can fill me in, but you need to tell me what's going on. So maybe you weren't really born Michael Vaughn; maybe you were brainwashed and trained and set up to do some horrible things to me. But things don't always turn out as we planned, do they? You fell in love with me. No one fakes that kind of love."

"Your mother succeeded pretty well with your father. You think you're immune?" Vaughn turned to the lie detector machine and busied his hands with the wires to keep them from shaking.

"Vaughn. I might be convinced by this act if it weren't for one little thing."

Vaughn turned back to Sydney and looked searched her face. "And what is that?"

"You told me where you were taking me. You told me before we even left Los Angeles." Her mouth was set in a hard line and she searched his eyes for any sign of the love she knew had to be there.

"What are you talking about? I didn't even know where I was taking you. After the car wreck, I took you to a safe house until my director called with instructions."

Sydney couldn't help but allow small, sardonic smile. "That's the story you want to stick by? Fine. But before we left the house, you told me something that stuck in my head. It was so strange and you seemed so adamant about it. You said you wanted to honeymoon in Quito, Ecuador. I would have laughed it off, but when you said it… Vaughn, when you said it, you were so serious. You looked me in the eyes, and with a straight face, you said 'remember that, Syd. Remember that we're going to Quito.' It was only then that you looked away and laughed and said 'someday'."

Vaughn was at a loss for words. Of course, he had told her that as a warning, he remembered now. He had thought if something happened to him, if Group Six somehow discovered his loyalty did not actually lie with them, he had to give Sydney some kind of clue. A way out. He had chanced it, not realizing what kind of a risk that could become if they actually made it to Quito and he was still alive.

But what did it matter? He almost wished she did have a way to convey that information to the CIA—it would save her in the short term, and it would save him from the horror of these lies. But in the long term, Vaughn knew that escaping this prison would not save Sydney Bristow. For now she had to stay here and he had to pretend that he was the enemy. All that would save either of them was continuing this charade. If Group Six didn't believe Vaughn was loyal to them and that Sydney was in their custody, then they had no chance of stopping this plan that had been almost thirty years in the making.

Sydney had to stop believing that there was any good in Michael Vaughn. If Group Six saw her unwavering faith, they would both die.

Vaughn recovered quickly, hoping Sydney hadn't noticed his surprise. He let a slow smile spread over his face.

"Well Sydney, even if that were true—even if I hadn't just been messing with you—what good would it do you now? In case you hadn't noticed, we're pretty isolated at the moment. I doubt even your good daddy would hear your screams for help."

"I wrote it down, Vaughn. Before we left. I thought it might be important, so I wrote it down. And I told Will where to look." Sydney looked at Vaughn searchingly, curious what his reaction would be. Surely this was what he had wanted.

Instead Vaughn cursed under his breath and pulled out a cell phone. He turned away from Sydney as he dialed a number.

"Sark? Yeah, it's Vaughn. Tell me you still have Tippin." He paused, glancing back at Sydney. He swore again. "Tippin knows where we are. Agent Bristow somehow warned him… no, I don't know how she knew… we have to move her."

Sydney spoke up after he hung up the phone.

"What are you, Jekyll and Hyde? Why the hell are you warning me one minute and moving me the next? Vaughn, stop this dammit! Look at me!" He had no choice. The look in her eyes compelled him. "We are in this together! We have been since the day I walked into the CIA. Just tell me what's going on and we'll _figure it out._"

Vaughn felt his heart and his head fighting for power. She was the best agent and the best person he had ever known. If anyone could help him figure this out, it was Sydney. But to do that, she would want to go back to the CIA and enlist the help of her father. Even if she did agree to stay, she would be stronger knowing that he was there for her. He needed her here, and he needed her to feel helpless and abandoned. He hated it, hated himself, but this couldn't work if Group Six didn't think they had her where they wanted her.

Finally, he knelt down to her level and looked steadily into her eyes.

"Get something straight in your head, Sydney. There is no 'we' now, and there will never be. I have been betraying you since the day you walked into the CIA. We have never been in anything together. When we made love, I pretended you were someone else. When I held you and told you I loved you, I could hardly get the words out. I have been taught my whole life that you are someone to be protected but otherwise disregarded, that you are a tool meant only for our use. You are not even a person to me, Syd. You're just a tool. You're nothing to me."

Sydney was sobbing by the end of Vaughn's little speech. "Please stop this… _please don't do this_…"

"It's done, Sydney. It's already done." Vaughn forced the lump in his throat down as he walked unsteadily to the door. His only hope was that we would die saving Sydney's life, because he was sure couldn't live with himself after that.

For now, he had to edit the tape of their conversation and have Sydney transferred. Before her father and the CIA discovered where she was.


	7. Chapter 7

Updates are pretty frequent right now because I'm getting ahead in my writing... Even I'm surprised at where this story is going. I know it's darker than the usual Alias fic, but I wanted to go for some edge. Keep in mind that I adore Vaughn... I'll do everything in my power to get him out of this, but no guarantees. It gets even darker before it gets any lighter...

**Glittering Pegasus--** I agree, even with all the betrayal that Sydney has seen, I think it would really take a lot for her to give up on Vaughn. She knows him inside and out. I'm glad you're enjoying it! It is darker than most fics, which is what I wanted to do-- but I think my next one will be more fluffy and humourous. Maybe it'll be "The CIA goes to Disneyworld!" Ahaha... no, really... okay, no.

**grouchy-- **Suspense is killing me, too! I make a point not to plan things out before I write them; it's more fun for me this way, too.But I am up to chapter twelve now, and the bigger picture will appear soon...

**Acetoorion--** For better or worse, that will be an issue in the next few chapters. Poor Vaughn!Torture threats, truth serum, and lie detector tests are in Sydney's future...

Thanks to everyone else for the reviews!

**Chapter Seven (Los Angeles)**

Will stormed out of his debrief session with Director Chase. After he had been released from the hospital, he was sent straight into hours of questioning, and had finally been cleared. Chase had announced he would be returned to Wisconsin within the next 24 hours. There, he was ordered to pack up his things before he would be moved to an undisclosed location.

"You are not moving me again," Will had told Chase. "My life has been twisted and turned in enough directions. I won't go."

"_Mr. Tippin, I cannot authorize your return to New Haven. It's too dangerous. They know where you are now and soon they will know that it was your information that led to Agent Bristow's whereabouts."_

"_I'm not saying I should be returned to Wisconsin."_

_There was a long pause._

"_You are not staying here, Mr. Tippin. Absolutely not."_

"_Director Chase, I am in this. Whether any of us likes it or not. Besides, what point would there be in my going back into Witness Protection? What's done is done. I have nothing more to offer them; they have no reason to come after me now."_

But still Director Chase had held out, making Will even angrier. After Sydney had come to see him in New Haven, his location had been exposed, and still no one had bothered to come after him. He had tried to make it work, knowing that Sydney felt better keeping him out of danger. But what good was that now? He needed to be here, he needed to help get her home safe.

He dropped into a chair next to Weiss, swearing loudly.

"Didn't go so well, huh?" Weiss asked, stating the obvious.

"Why keep this up? I mean, who was after me in the first place? Sark, Allison Doren, Sloane. Maybe a few of their enemies and allies. But that's over now, and I don't want to run anymore. I want to be here for Sydney."

"I get that," replied Weiss. He took a long look at Will before continuing. "Did Vaughn really… I mean, did he really seem like a bad guy to you? I just can't picture him wanting to hurt Sydney. It makes no sense."

"Honestly, Weiss? After everything that's gone on over these past few years, I don't even know if my own mother is a good guy. Doesn't it ever feel to you like everybody is double-crossing everyone else? I mean, this world is totally ridiculous." He sighed. "But Vaughn… I don't know. I didn't see him. I don't even know if Sydney has seen him."

"I've known the guy for, like, ever. He loves Sydney. He loves the life he has. I don't get it."

"You know, the last time I saw Sydney… we slept together." Will said this conversationally, waiting for Weiss' reaction. All he got was a pair of raised eyebrows.

"Huh."

"I love her. I have always loved her. And if Vaughn really did this… Eric, I know he's your best friend, but I will kill him." Will rubbed his eyes tiredly. "That is, if I don't get sent to some ass-backward small-town USA."

"Sydney's an amazing person—and one of the best friends I have. But I'm not ready to give up on Mike yet. He's got a plan," Weiss said this reassuringly, confidently. But inside, he was afraid that the facts this time outweighed the faith he had in his best friend.

Will looked up as Jack came rushing past them, the usual look of solid determination set upon his face.

"Mr. Bristow? Jack? Has there been anything new?"

"We've located the city Sydney's been taken to. We're getting a team together and leaving in two hours."

Will jumped up and jogged after him. "I have to come with you."

Jack didn't even slow down. "Absolutely not. You haven't been trained."

"Jack, I could be useful. Chances are I've seen this place and just don't remember it. I could recognize the building; at least the inside of it." He stopped as Jack slowed his pace considerably. "I need to be a part of this. I have to help Sydney." This plea finally stopped Sydney's father.

"Fine. Sadly, I don't have a better plan at the moment. Quito is a big city. Weiss, take Tippin to Marshall for a review on the op. You'll both be coming."

Will turned to Weiss as Jack moved on.

"Quito? Man, I never would have guessed South America."

"Hey, don't be hard on yourself. A concrete room is a concrete room on any continent."

**Ecuador**

As the team of twelve agents gathered weapons and traded jeans for camouflage, Jack Bristow told them the game plan.

"Intel reports suggest there has been an explosion of criminal activity in the south end of the city. Not your typical gang-and-gun violence, but high-end money and weapons trade. Without further information, that seems as likely a place as any to start." He looked around. "Tippin, you'll ride with me and point out anything that looks familiar. Agents Weiss and Sutton, you'll be with us. Everyone else, spread out and stay low. Talk to people, show them Sydney's picture. This is not the way I would normally conduct an operation, but we do not have the luxury of time. Stay on your comms and report anything suspicious immediately."

Will hopped into a black Jeep and Jack handed him a machine gun, looked at Will momentarily, then took back the machine gun and replaced it with a much smaller pistol.

"Hey!" Said Will indignantly. "I can point and shoot as well as the next guy."

"Maybe so, but I don't have the time to stop the bleeding if you shoot your own leg off."

Will was still grumbling about the machine gun fifteen minutes later, as they drove down a deteriorating city block. His spine suddenly went rigid and he sat up straight.

"Jack, that's it." He pointed out a three-story building, a structure completely unremarkable in all its gray concrete splendor. Two small barred windows were its only décor.

"Will, are you sure?" Jack asked as he slowed the car and pulled it into an alleyway a block away.

"Definitely. I don't know why, but I know. That's the one." Weiss got on the mic to tell the other agents where they were. The four men got out of the car and proceeded cautiously to the building.

"Weiss, Sutton, go around back and scope it out. If there are other entrances, I want to know about them. Tippin, stay behind me." What Jack didn't say out loud was that he was terrified they would be too late—that Sydney would be dead or gone. _I won't have my daughter taken from me again, _he thought, remembering again the awful year he had spent believing she was dead, believing he no longer had anything worth living for. It was only then that he thought he should have contacted Irina. But perhaps it was better he spare her the worry.

Jack was anxious to get into the building, but he forced himself to wait until the other agents had arrived. He would do this right.

As soon as everyone was in place, Jack took a deep breath and shouted, "Go!" into the mic.

The building was empty, including the room that Will told them he and Sydney had been held in. The table with the vials of liquid and lie detector machine had been taken out, and the only evidence that remained was the ankle chain that held Sydney.

"And you're sure…" Jack trailed off, looking at Will.

"Yes. I'm sure." Will knelt beside the chain, in the corner where he had lain unconscious for several days. "Jack?" He looked up, smiling. "Syd left us a message."

The message was scratched into the cement in code, a numbers sequence that Jack didn't recognize immediately. He copied it down quickly in his notepad, knowing automatically that there was one person who would be able to decode it right away. Irina, who had been MIA since their mission well over a month ago. In the end, the CIA had been unwilling to give her any kind of pardon in return for her help, so Jack had helped her escape. He hadn't heard anything from her since that time, but knew he could reach her if really needed to.

And now, he really needed her.

"Uh, Mr. Bristow? There's one more thing I think you should see." Agent Kelley stood awkwardly at the door before leading him into a room at the other end of the dank hallway.

Jack saw immediately that it had been surveillance room. In the hurry to leave, Sydney's captors had only succeeded in packing up half of the equipment. As Weiss and Will crowded in behind them, Agent Kelley pressed 'Play' on a VCR.

"This was left behind."

A black and white camera shot from above had captured Sydney on the ground with Will laying unconscious beside her. Vaughn was standing above them both and the audio began to play mid-sentence.

"—grasshopper had escaped the can and hopped away. But I captured you again, didn't I, Syd? Still, I regret having to pull him back into this. I thought I was rid of the little bastard for good."

"You love me. Stop this act."

"Oh no, Sydney. I have stopped the act. You just need to catch up to the script."

Three men who loved Sydney watched on as Vaughn pulled back and hit Sydney hard across the face.

"Son of a bitch," Will whispered.

"Jesus." Said Weiss.

"He's dead." Said Jack.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for the reviews & be patient with me!... I promise this isn't depressing and heart-wrenchingly angsty forever. ;-)

Without further ado…

**Chapter Eight**

She had been blindfolded and dragged, thrown and pushed, from one space to another for the last 20 hours. At one point she had been certain she was in a truck, but when Sydney woke up next she realized the droning noise around her could only be the engines of an airplane.

She had screwed up. Completely. If she had not told Vaughn that Will knew their location, he would have been taken by surprise and she would have been rescued. But she had been so certain that if she just reasoned with Vaughn, he would finally open up and tell her what his plan was and why he was putting her through this.

At last Sydney felt firm, packed dirt beneath her and was certain that she had finally come to her new prison. Wherever it might be.

She was weak from the drugs Vaughn had used to sedate her during their travels.

She had been given ample time to think over her situation, and had come to one solid decision. Whatever Michael Vaughn was up to, she was going to play along. She would pretend to believe that he despised her; that he thought she was "nothing". She would pretend that she hadn't seen the utter devastation and desperation in his eyes when he had spoken those awful words. She might even throw a couple of insults back his way. She would make believe that she had lost hope in him… because for whatever reason, that was what he needed right now.

_But only for so long, _she added to herself. _He can't lie to me forever. I won't let him. And I am not going to make this easy on him._

Sydney slowly became aware of hushed voices whispering around her. She was still blindfolded, but the air on her skin made her believe she was outdoors.

A rough male voice was the first to speak out. There was something very vaguely familiar about it.

"Sydney Bristow, you have certainly made our lives more difficult. Bravo."

"Don't be a coward. Take off this blindfold; let me look you in the eyes," Sydney hissed quietly.

There was long pause.

"Well, I can't see the harm at this point."

Hands reached around her head and Sydney suddenly she saw she was surrounded by nearly two dozen people, most of them dressed in maroon robes. _What is this? A cult?_ It was pitch black out and Sydney couldn't make out her surroundings beyond a small campfire right next to her. She found she was still unable to move most of her muscles; if they had been functioning, there was no guarantee that she wouldn't take on the entire group of them.

At the center of the group was a pair of sparkling green eyes that could belong only to one man. Sydney forced herself to dismiss Vaughn and continue her look around. Her eyes finally rested on the man who had been speaking.

"Jacko?" She gasped.

Standing directly in front of her was a man she had grown up adoring—the man her father had hired to cook for them after her mother's supposed death. Jack Cohen. She had nicknamed him Jacko because she had been certain they couldn't have two Jacks in the same household. He had stayed on until Sydney graduated high school and moved into the dorms at the university. She had often joked that she would find a way to double his salary if he could come with her and cook all her meals.

He shrugged apologetically. "Someone had to watch over you while you were growing up. There has always been someone watching you Sydney, from the moment that you were born. There was always someone in your life who was there for all the wrong reasons."

Names and faces flashed through Sydney's head as she wondered. _Her nannies. Her first boyfriend Johnny. Her best friend in high school, Kaylie. Francie and Will. Dixon. Elizabeth Sloane. Her father. Her mother. _Was there anyone in her life who was real? Was her entire life a Hollywood production?

"Who else?" She whispered desperately.

Jacko shrugged. "Mostly just casual observers. High school teachers, College professors. Maintenance men, RA's in your dorm."

Sydney allowed herself a small sigh of relief. No one she loved. Glancing up at those veiled green eyes, she thought, except_ maybe the one person I love the most._

Jacko saw where her gaze had wandered and chuckled deeply.

"Yes, he was one of our more ingenious ideas. We knew he would get you through the toughest years of your career. Tell me Sydney, does it hurt to know he stabbed you in the back?"

Sydney winced inwardly before responding. "Not particularly. I should have listened to my father—Vaughn was just a boy who was never good enough for me. Frankly, I don't know why I stuck around as long as I did. It was just… easy to date someone who was CIA, I guess."

She forced herself not to glance over at Vaughn as she said this, but inwardly the words didn't feel as good as she had thought they would. She thought causing him some pain would lessen her own, but it was just the opposite. Still, she forced herself to continue.

"He was supposed to act like my true love? You could have sent in someone a bit more convincing."

Jacko burst into unstoppable laughter. Sydney was reminded of the fun times they had had baking together when she was a child. That same laugh coming from those same lips after she dumped a bowl of flour over her own head.

"Well, we'll take your concerns into consideration. Thank you for the feedback Sydney." There was another silence as Sydney waited for some kind of explanation.

"Sydney… we want to tell you why you're here. We really do. But we have to do some tests first. You don't mind, do you?"

"I'm particularly good at history and biology." Sydney responded sarcastically.

"Oh, it's great to see you all grown up, dear girl! Such wit, such beauty…"

-----

Vaughn watched on as Sydney's blindfold was removed. Her eyes drifted past him, stopping only momentarily.

He was finally able to access more information now that the Group recognized his devotion. They were letting him sit in on their meetings and giving him access to classified documents. With any luck, he would uncover the truth about their mission and his brainwashing, and get Sydney to safety as soon as possible. But in the meantime, all he could do was watch and wait.

_But the moment one of them tries to physically harm her… _he thought darkly.

Vaughn looked up sharply when he heard his name.

"… don't know why I stuck around as long as I did," Sydney was saying nonchalantly. "It was just… easy to date someone who was CIA, I guess."

Vaughn's stomach dropped as he heard these words come out of Sydney's mouth. Of course, it was what he had wanted… for Sydney to lose faith in him. But to hear her speak those words out loud. He struggled not to run to her and beg her forgiveness.

"He was supposed to act like my true love? You could have sent in someone a bit more convincing."

Vaughn's knees went weak and he held back his emotions. Rationally, he knew that Sydney was trying to hurt him the way he had hurt her. But emotionally, he didn't think he could stand this for one more second.

Just look at me, he willed her, look at me right now and I will run over to you, lift you over my shoulder and we will run off together and kill anyone who gets in our way… Africa, the Bahamas, Japan… you name it and I will take you there. Just look at me. 

But Sydney didn't look at him and Vaughn knew that anywhere he took her, they would find her. They had to stop this; kill it at the root.

"Yes, Sydney, we have many tests for you. Though we know you are the one, there are members of the Group who would like actual proof. You know, there are parts of your missing two years that you still aren't aware of. We've got an experimental operation that may give you back those two years… because there are things we need to know…"

Vaughn started. _Experimental operation?_ He had not been briefed on that.

Sydney echoed his surprise. "_May _give me back those two years? And if not? What, I die, I become a vegetable?"

"Sydney. We would not risk you like that. We need you. Some people believe there will be a Second Coming of Christ… you are like that to us. And this is the year that your destiny will take shape. You are a divine figure destined to do great things for the people of this Earth."

"Starting by wiping you off the face of it," Sydney retorted.

Jacko continued as if she had not spoken.

"The problem is—the problem for you, that is—is that after we have the information we need from you, you are just as good to us dead as alive. So you might want to watch what you say, darling girl."

Vaughn's fist clenched beneath the ridiculous robe he was wearing. _You just offered to be the first one I kill, _he promised Jacko silently. _And it will be my pleasure, you asshole._

A robed member called out from beside Vaughn. "Master, we need to test this one as well," she motioned to him. "How do we know he has been loyal?"

Jacko turned and replied coldly. "He brought her to us, did he not?"

"But what if it's an act? What if he just wants our secrets?"

Jacko turned to Vaughn and smiled brightly. "Well, there is one way to solve this problem, isn't there? Agent, you will lead the- er- exploration of Sydney's memories and information. By any means necessary. Understood?"

Vaughn's mouth had suddenly gone dry, but he replied confidently, all the while his mind working furiously.

"Yes sir. With pleasure."

_Oh, shit._


	9. Chapter 9

Whew! It's been a long couple of weeks, but I figured it was time to finally update this thing. Thanks for all the reviews (and for pointing out my errors-- sometimes ya just need a little help, you know?).

**Chapter Nine**

Michael Vaughn (for he truly was Michael Vaughn, he had realized. Vaughn was the only self he knew) had finally come to the realization that his careful plan had spun completely out of his control. He had wanted nothing more than to save Sydney, and instead he was contributing to her misery. Scratch that, he was leading the parade.

These were the thoughts that ran through his mind as he looked around the so-called "Extraction Room". Sydney was asleep on a gurney in the middle of the room; knocked out by a combination of drugs the freaks from Group Six had been feeding her. When she woke up, it would be Vaughn's time to shine. It would be time for him to prove his worth to his brainwashers.

He would have to wait to prove his worth to Sydney. But he promised himself he would save her at any expense.

Lucky for them both, today's round of testing didn't involve anything that would harm her. There was to be no physical torture and they weren't ready to start rebuilding her memories—an experiment that Vaughn was determined to ruin.

As Sydney stirred, Vaughn glanced up to the mirror at one side of the room. A mirror that was, of course, actually a bulletproof window on the other side. Jacko and his team of lunatics were watching eagerly from the other side.

---

A feeling of deep rage was the first thing Sydney was aware of as she regained consciousness. She had been patient. She had been a good girlfriend. She had given Vaughn the benefit of the doubt. But here she was, still locked up and even worse, strapped to a gurney in what looked like a torture shop of horrors.

_I don't even care anymore if he really is trying to help me. This is bullshit and I will not sit still and hope that he turns back into the man I love. This is up to me again. I only have myself to rely on._

She finally opened her eyes and found them instantly locked with Vaughn's. He was dressed in a white coat, his green eyes a pool of unmasked emotion—or had that been her imagination? Suddenly they were veiled and cold once again.

"As soon as I check your vitals we'll get started." He said, turning to adjust some dials.

"Can you get me a Starbucks first, Connor?" She asked, mockingly pleasant. She could get through this if she just pretended that this man was her Vaughn's evil twin. Connor. _Those green eyes only look like his green eyes. And I will live in denial as long as it gets me through this and back home._

He didn't respond, so Sydney chattered on, hoping to aggravate him to the point of snapping.

"So where did you take me this time? You know, my boyfriend was taking me to Santa Barbara. He died in a car accident. Tragic, really."

(Vaughn suddenly wished desperately that he had never met Sydney Bristow, that he had never had to know the pain that can come with loving someone so freely and so deeply and having that taken from him by a group of monsters. He also wished he could let Sydney in on the horrible irony of their situation—that they had been transported not to some new foreign land, but straight back into Los Angeles, just miles from CIA Headquarters. After all, this was probably the only city where agents would _not _be looking for Sydney and Vaughn.)

Sydney paused for a minute and finally broke and asked him a serious question. "How is it that we got out of that car? I mean, that thing really hit us."

He seemed surprised when she resumed her normal tone of voice, but he answered almost immediately.

"Well, it definitely wasn't planned, if that's what you're wondering. I was supposed to take you to Santa Barbara where we would be robbed and abducted from our hotel room in the middle of the night. Instead, that car hit us. It wasn't as horrible as it could have been—the other car applied its brakes at the last minute and slowed enough that the impact was minimal. You hit your head on the dashboard and were unconscious for almost twelve hours—and then we kept you out with drugs. I was better off. Just some cuts and bruises. Seatbelts really are a wondrous thing."

(He wished he could tell her everything—how he had been ready to tell her everything just before the car hit them; to warn her and allow her to make her own decision about how she would go on; how _they _would go on if she could possibly forgive him. How he had been out of his mind when he saw the blood dripping down her face. How he had cradled her in his arms while waiting for the ambulance to come. How he had planned how and where they could hide out. How the monsters, the freaks, the lunatics had then shown up at the roadside to take them both to South America and all of his options and all of their choices had been taken from them because he had taken his eyes off the road for one second too long. How he had not had a moment to speak or act freely since that time.)

"Anyway," he continued after a pause. "We're alive."

"Unfortunately," she muttered.

Vaughn pretended not to hear her. He motioned to a familiar-looking machine beside the gurney. "You're familiar with the lie detector, Sydney. I should know. I trained you how to lie to the lie detector. Well, this one is a lot more complex. It's closer to a mind reader than a lie detector. You'd have to be magician to fool this thing."

Sydney had the distinct impression that Vaughn was trying to warn her. She nodded to him coolly.

"I really have nothing to hide at this point, do I? You know everything I know. I have never lied to you." Both understood the obvious implication—she had never lied to him, but he had done a hell of a lot worse.

"It's something of a formality," he finally answered uncomfortably.

He cleared his throat and finally asked, "What is your full name?"

"Wilma. Wilma Flintstone." Both of them winced as an electric current ran through her body. It was mild, but the message was delivered: _Don't try to mock the machine._

"Again: what is your name?" Vaughn fought to keep his voice steady.

"Cindy Crawford." Sydney braced herself as another shock coursed through her. This one was slightly stronger.

"Don't do this, Sydney. It only gets worse," he hissed, trying to sound menacing but sounding desperate instead. He spoke louder: "Is your name Sydney Bristow?"

"Yes."

"Are you an agent for the CIA?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember the two years you spent as Julia Thorne?"

"No." Another shock was administered, and she lifted her head angrily. "Bullshit! I don't remember anything about it! Your stupid machine is broken!"

"Maybe it's just on the verge of your consciousness," Vaughn muttered, shooting a glance at his reflection in the mirror across the room. Surely the Goons wouldn't believe that.

"Do you remember a person name Sarah O'Toole?" Vaughn read this name from the list of questions he had been given, making a mental note to research the name later.

"No."

Vaughn looked at the next question and cringed inwardly. "Do you love Michael Vaughn?"

"No." Sydney replied honestly. _Because his name is really Connor Dalloway. _

Vaughn held his breath and realized suddenly that no electric shock had come. _She was telling the truth. And why should she love you? What the hell have you done but ruin her life and hand her over to this scum? _Without thinking, he diverted quickly from the script.

"Do you love any other man?"

"Yes." Sydney replied, smiling dreamily, knowing what effect this probably had on Vaughn.

Vaughn inhaled sharply and went back to the list of questions. They ranged from the ridiculous ("have you ever been to Nebraska?") to the mysterious ("Where were you on July 17, 2003?"). Vaughn could not make out what Group Six thought they would get out of her answers, but he read on and on, hoping that something would spark a clue in either himself or in Sydney. But she seemed as mystified as he was.

"Do I like _strawberries_?" She asked incredulously after one particularly silly question. "Who made this list of questions? As an annoyed prisoner, could I make a suggestion and tell you to fire whoever the hell it was? I mean, what kind of interrogation is this?"

Vaughn shrugged helplessly, not able to admit that he agreed with her completely.

When the session was finished, Sydney was taken back to her room, and Vaughn stormed out of the Extraction Room and into the room next door, where several members of Group Six were waiting patiently.

"This is ridiculous. If you want me to do this, to be in charge of extracting information, then it is time for you to tell me what it is I need to be extracting. Sending me into that room with an endless supply of pointless questions… that just cannot happen anymore!" He was shouting by the end of this little speech.

Jacko smiled pleasantly up at him. "You're right, of course. Sit down; it's time we tell you everything."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Sydney's been gone for three weeks. I feel like the worst friend ever just sitting here and waiting for some clue to drop onto my lap!" Will grabbed a mini stuffed dog off of Weiss's desk and angrily made a fist around its neck.

"Hey! I know you're upset, but don't take it out on Ernie!" Weiss grabbed the dog out of Will's hands and whispered soothingly at its face before replacing it. He sighed and turned to Will. "Look, I'm going crazy too, but I don't know what more we can do. We've got all the agents we can spare on this. Sydney's dad has gone all Super Agent and works day and night. You know they'll find her. They just need more time."

"I just don't think she _has_ more time, Eric. I mean you saw the tape. If Vaughn could do that… what else could he do?"

Weiss shook his head. "I really don't know, man. I still feel like that tape came from some warped parallel universe. I mean, Evil Vaughn and Victim Sydney? It just doesn't fit."

From across the room, the two men suddenly caught wind of a heated discussion. Both couldn't help but be surprised when they realized that Marshall was on the giving end.

"I know what I saw, Director!"

"Marshall, you're high on cold medication. You don't know what you saw. I told you to take the week off," Chase replied calmly.

"What is it?" Weiss asked, rushing over. "What did you see?"

"Sydney! I saw Sydney!" He replied without pause. I mean, seriously only blocks from here. I thought I was hallucinating at first, but I took my index finger and thumb and pinched that sensitive little area near the armpit? You know? Like you see them do it in movies. Let me tell you, I was not hallucinating!"

"Okay, whoa, whoa," Will said as he joined them. "Where exactly do you think you saw her?"

"They had her in a car. She didn't look… conscious… she was kind of leaning against the window of the car. There were two guys in the front. I didn't recognize either of them. I tried to follow the car but they lost me, somewhere near the McDonald's on 32nd street. I don't know where they went from there."

Will looked startled. "Wait… you mean here? You saw Sydney here, in LA?"

"That's what I'm saying!"

"He's deluded," Chase said, exasperated.

"Maybe but, we have to follow this, Director. I mean, what if he's right?" Will looked at her pleadingly and she finally sighed.

"Alright. Marshall, can I assume you got the plates and make of this car?"

As Marshall and Chase walked away to perform a search on the car's license plates, Will turned to Weiss.

"Can you believe this?"

"Honestly? No. I think Marshall's cracking up. He's taking this Sydney thing pretty hard. Says it's his fault that we didn't know about Vaughn—that because he has the highest IQ, he should be looking out for all those of us with 'weaker minds'".

"But if it's true… I mean, bringing Syd to LA after all of this… it's like they're mocking us. And I don't like being mocked."

"Ah," said Weiss wisely. "Brings back high school memories?"

Will glowered at him before smiling slightly. "Just high school? Try middle, high and college."

----

Jack met Irina in a parking garage at precisely midnight. Beneath her clever disguise—with her short dark wig, heavy makeup and short skirt, she could have passed for a hooker on any Los Angeles street corner—Jack saw the woman he had fallen in love with several decades ago. She was still the same beautiful woman. He could have hated her. He could have killed her. But they shared the ultimate bond; something that had drawn him closer to her rather than farther apart—they both loved their daughter more than any other person on Earth.

"Jack." She breathed as she joined him.

"Irina. You're looking… trashy."

"You always did say the most flattering things." She replied, smoothing the front of her leather skirt. She smiled slightly up at him, and he gave a fleeting smile back.

"Have you heard anything?" She asked.

"There are rumours." He said simply. "An agent thinks he saw Sydney here, in LA, in unconscious in a car. He got the plates and car model. They're running the information as we speak."

"I think I know who it was." Irina told him. He looked at her suspiciously. "Oh, wipe that look off your face Jack. Just like you, I knew that Vaughn was not what he said. In fact, before he and Sydney left, I told him to tell her. But whereas you thought he was a double agent who had abandoned his former ties, I knew that was not the case.

"He would have, Jack. Believe me, he would have. He loves our daughter. I can only imagine how he was forced into helping to take her hostage."

"He _hit _her."

Irina gazed at her husband silently for several moments. "Take it from someone who knows, Jack. Sometimes it's easier to pretend to hate someone you love… rather than see the look in their eyes when you stab them in the back." She turned away from him. "No, he's protecting himself, and trying to protecting her."

"I don't care what your take on this is. This is still his fault, and I will still kill him with my own hands."

Irina sighed and continued talking. "They call themselves Group Sic. I don't know what they're endgame is, or what interest they have in Sydney, but they are Vaughn's… employers. I've known that for a while. I just didn't know that our daughter was somehow involved."

"Do you know how to get to them?" Jack demanded.

"I'm working on it," she replied. "I should have something in the next couple of hours." She turned to go, then hesitated and turned back.

"Jack… when you get to Vaughn, just remember what I said. She may only have been a job in the beginning, but he loves her. He is not going to let them hurt her. Right now… right now, the only person that he is a danger to is himself."

Irina left the garage. Jack stared mournfully after her.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I know... I know... I'm still leaving you hanging from the previous chapter. No one ever said satisfaction would be quick in coming! But, I think this needed an interlude because the next few chapters are going to be turbulent ! Thanks so much for all the reviews, I'm glad people are getting a kick out of reading this, because I am getting a kick out of writing it...

Alias, the REAL season five starts in one week. Can't wait!


	11. Chapter 11

I'm back after a year-long absence... what the hell... If you notice any factual errors, let me know. It's been so long, even I have forgotten the details!

----------------

Chapter 11

"Long before SD-6 and other renegade groups discovered Rambaldi, an ancient society discovered the work of a man called Orli," Jacko began. "We have no record of a last name for Orli, or even if that was his real first name. We only know that he lived in what is now known as the Middle East. No consequence. The point is that long before Rambaldi began inventing and predicting, centuries before, Orli made his own predictions. Some followed him as though he were Jesus, and there was in fact a short-lived religion formed from Orli's teachings.

"After building a solid reputation, Orli started having what he called 'visions of the future'. His followers became skeptical when he spoke of events occurring a thousand years into the future and Orli's band of brothers deserted him. He lived alone and documented his visions, down to every detail.

"I'm sure I don't even have to tell you that those visions included – and in fact, focused on, Sydney Bristow. Oh, he didn't name her, but like Rambaldi, he drew her.

"Where Rambaldi was vague and cryptic, Orli was very detailed. Drawings and descriptions of her life's events. It wouldn't surprise any of us, in fact, if Rambaldi had drawn his predictions from Orli's earlier works. The resemblance is, in some respects, astounding.

"Orli's few remaining followers kept a tight hold on his journals after his death. They were passed down through the secret network, protected and studied for generations and generations. As Her generation neared, the group prepared.

"The day Sydney was born, many of us were placed in the hospital to ensure all was as planned. Sydney was born at 4:22 am, the exact time and on the exact date that Orli had written. We followed her throughout her childhood—cook, nanny, teacher, professor, and so on. We checked off events in her life as they unfolded, exactly as Orli had envisaged. She broke her arm on her fifth birthday, was in a car accident at the age of eight, started speaking, reading and writing all at specifics points. The only thing that did not appear in Orli's text was the death of Sydney's mother – at first we tried to explain it away, but as it turned out, her mother had not died.

"Orli had forseen almost her entire life, including her death."

Vaughn took a moment to let the information sink in. _First Rambaldi, now this guy?_

"So what?" He finally asked. "So he saw Sydney's entire life… what made it worth all this?" He motioned around him.

Jacko laughed.

"Ah, yes… well, that's the big question, isn't it? Sadly, Orli was a bit more vague on that point. We have dates, we have a few instructions, and we know that she is important—but we still don't know why. Based on his writings, we believe her two year absence will help us decipher a few things. In fact, we were puzzled when Sydney disappeared. Orli hadn't written about that; he had just left a two-year blank. Often times he is non-specific and other times he is detailed to a fault.

"We do know the date of her death, however, and it is very soon. Our time is running out and Sydney hasn't yet provided our promised miracle. We felt Orli would have wanted this—that in fact, his lack of direction at this point was a test for his true followers."

Vaughn's mind was reeling. The date of Syd's death? Every event predicted? _Sydney would die soon and there was nothing he could do to protect her? _No. Fuck fate, they would make their own fates. Group Six was crazy; a cult awaiting their screwed-up version of Jesus.

"I'm not sure I understand what my role was," he said, simply to speak. He realized he had been silent for several long moments, and the group was staring at him. "You wanted me to protect her, but you already knew every important event in her life."

Jacko smiled.

"Meaning, of course, that we knew Sydney Bristow would become engaged to a man named Michael Vaughn. Orli went as far as to detail a few facts of Vaughn's life. As soon as we learned this, we raced to track the kid down and have him replaced by our own agent. Your duty was not so much to protect Sydney, but to become the man she fell in love with—to have her total trust."

Vaughn's blood ran cold. The paradox of the situation was beginning to numb his mind. Would Sydney have fallen in love with the real Michael Vaughn had he not been killed? Or had Orli made the prediction simply because Sydney believed the man to be Michael Vaughn?

_No. Fate will not control us_, he thought furiously. _Sydney and I love one another because we chose one another, not some man a thousand years ago._

"I know this is a lot to process, but you've always been quite good at that, Connor," jacko said cheerfully. "Of course, we cannot possibly share the complete texts with you, as you are not one of the descendents of Orli's followers. But you have done well by us, young man, and you will be rewarded in the New World."

Vaughn tried to keep the look of bewilderment from his face. New World? Were these people serious?

"We will keep Sydney here and continue to test her until we learn what it is we must know, and set the events in motion. You will assist us, using Sydney's emotions to our benefit."

Vaughn couldn't resist one question.

"If these events are pre-determined, why do you have to do anything at all? Fate is fate, after all."

Member of the Group fixed him with a steely glare, but Jacko laughed good naturedly.

"Orli made it clear that a push would be needed in order to help things along. This is why we have been devoted to him for so many centuries—we needed to know when we would be needed."

"I see," said Vaughn, who of course, did not.

_Oh Syd. How will I get you out of this without forcing you to run for the rest of your life?_

But already, a plan had started to take shape in his mind.


End file.
